Tag Archives: Ghost

My brother was four-years older, already on the edge of escape: anger and a bullet proof vest his only companions. When he was younger, he thought he was Geronimo and wore a tattered headdress (bought from some roadside souvenir stand) … Continue reading →

My mother only took photographs of sadness. The Crown box camera clicked and fluttered; the wide-eyed shutter collapsed like a hesitant flower with withering petals. The camera looked like a hearse and the images were minor funerals; the death of … Continue reading →

I was on the edge of the mapped earth, where I rode the waves of anguish and lash, bandied about the suffering crush of the water’s cruel intent to drown. The gulls mad dash, lurch and startle, made the suffering … Continue reading →

She sleeps with her weary ghosts too tired to make them believe that there is a better place for haunting, a place beyond the immeasurable sleepy self where dark dreams conspire to pull them all beneath the surface where life … Continue reading →

Walking at the sea’s edge and I find silence within the crashing waves. We Walking at the sea’s edge and I find silence within the crashing waves. We all drown in our own silence. We float unadorned and untethered to … Continue reading →

Did she really exist or are the photographs reflections of my imagination? My eye for detail is amazing. I can see things that never happened. Like that barrage of comets that fell from her eyes like cold failed stars, littering … Continue reading →

She was first and foremost a trapeze artist a high wire woman made of stone who blindfolded everyone around her. You don’t have to fall in love with everyone you see she said, as she lit a cigarette and smirked … Continue reading →